


Frost

by Dracoduceus



Series: Nothing Gold [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Violence, Hanahaki AU, M/M, Marigolds, Misunderstandings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: A series of shorts set in the Nothing Gold series. Previously posted on my tumblr.For the most part will take place afterNothing Gold.





	1. A Bit of a Spat

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got around to posting this here as well. It used to be [only on my tumblr](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/171948653486/hanahaki-au-a-bit-of-a-spat) but I thought _eh, I guess I'll add it here too now that I'm writing more for the series._

“Hey Ange,” Jesse said, poking his head in the door to her office. “You got a sec?”

Sighing fondly, Angela saved her work and pushed herself to her feet. “What is it  _this time_ , cowboy?” she teased as she walked toward the waiting room. “Did you–  _mein Gott!_ ”

There was an arrow sticking out of Jesse’s shoulder.

He shrugged and didn’t seem bothered that the movement jostled it even though it had to have hurt. “Han and I are havin’ a bit of a spat.”

“ _A bit of a spat?_ ” she echoed incredulously. “Jesse,  _he shot you!_ ”

Jesse shrugged again. “Aw, it ain’t so bad. Missed anything vital.”

Briskly, Angela prepared an examination room and quickly gathered her tools as Ana drifted in.

“What did we learn,  _habibi_?” the old sniper asked, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning against the berth next to him.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Han’s always right, I’m always wrong,” he said with a rough bark of a laugh. “And mother knows best.”

“I need you to undress, Jesse,” Angela told him. “As much as you can. Ana, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

To her surprise, Jesse gave out another rough bark of laughter. “Naw, Ana’s seen it all, already.” He began unbuttoning his blood-stained flannel. It wasn’t common knowledge around the new Overwatch that Jesse was Empty – he had enough personality (or at least pretended that he did) that it didn’t occur to most that he had his heart cut out – but she was always just a little surprised when she was reminded of it.

Still, the knowledge that Ana knew both surprised and didn’t surprise Angela.

With Ana’s help, Angela eased the flannel off Jesse’s shoulders, baring the faded scars from the surgery that removed the plant in his chest. A scan showed that the arrow, just as Jesse had said, missed anything vital.

“But really, Jesse,” Angela said as she treated the wound. “What happened? Hold still, this will hurt a bit.”

“Don’t feel pain,” Jesse reminded her gently. “Do feel a weird tuggin’, though.”

Ana snorted.

* * *

Out of a sense of morbid curiosity, Angela followed Jesse and Ana down to the common room when the cowboy was all patched up. Halfway through the process, the alarm on his phone – the one that reminded him and Hanzo to eat – had rung and since then Jesse had been fidgety.

They found Hana and Hanzo at the dining room table. There was a plate with a large sandwich at the empty place beside Hanzo.

“Hey sug,” Jesse said and Angela wondered if he realized that his voice went flat and emotionless when he spoke to Hanzo.

Hanzo tipped his head back and they exchanged the strangest, most expressionless kiss that Angela had ever witnessed. “I’m sorry that I shot you.”

“No yer not,” Jesse replied flatly as he slipped into the seat beside Hanzo. He tapped the back of Hanzo’s hand in a way that Angela had learned was affectionate but in a way that only applied to Hanzo. “You can’t feel ‘sorry’.”

The archer gave a huff that now substituted for a laugh. (Angela noticed that as time went on and Hanzo got used to his new lifestyle, there were more and more substitutes for things he no longer felt. Laughing was one of them and he “laughed” somewhat regularly even though he and Jesse both claimed that they couldn’t “feel” humor or amusement. Jesse had picked up on some of them as well and so on occasion the two of them would build their “expressions” off each other – monkey see, monkey do.)

“It’s okay,” Jesse continued, nudging Hanzo with an elbow as he picked up the sandwich which had clearly been for him. “I love you anyway.”

The subtle expression on Hanzo’s face softened just a bit. His expressions were even more subtle than before but the team was once more learning to read him again. “You don’t,” he replied. “Because you literally can’t love me.”

Jesse huffed in a Hanzo-style laugh. He took a big bite of the sandwich, getting crumbs and condiments in the wiry auburn hairs of his beard. Hanzo’s expression softened even more, just an iota, and they traded glances that by their definition was “disgustingly fond”.

Across the table from them, Hana rolled her eyes. “You two are  _so_  fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those that enjoy this series. It really means a lot to me to see all of your comments and kudos and feedback.
> 
> ~DC


	2. Ten Minutes More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had wanted to play with Hanzo's heart. 
> 
> Inspired by [tags](https://classywastelandbread.tumblr.com/post/171981215476/nothing-gold-hanahaki-au-ten-minutes-more) by [gastriticmouse](http://gastriticmouse.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

Hanzo’s smile was blinding and McCree couldn’t help but roll closer and taste the smile on his lips.

“Fancy seeing you here,” McCree teased. He rolled to prop himself up over Hanzo’s prone form.

Laughing, Hanzo rolled them again and McCree could feel the edge of the grass digging in to the back of his head. It brought the boughs of the marigold plant into his range of vision and now they framed Hanzo’s smiling face. Reaching up, he tucked a lock of Hanzo’s loose hair behind his ear.

Hanzo froze, his happy smile fading a little as he blushed cutely. “I love you,” Hanzo breathed.

“I love you,” McCree echoed. “Even…” He swallowed. “Even when I don’t - when I can’t. I love you.”

“I know,” Hanzo assured him. He leaned down and kissed McCree again.

Their stomachs rumbled a few seconds before their lunchtime alarms went off.

“Just a little bit longer?” Hanzo asked wistfully as he turned off the alarm.

McCree looked apologetic. “Y’  _know_  it’s not a good idea,” he murmured regretfully. He ran his hand through the silver at Hanzo’s temples. “But a few more minutes won’t hurt.”

It had been so long since he’d actually  _felt_  that even the smallest emotion still felt like a suckerpunch. Hanzo’s smile took his heart away and he watched helplessly as Hanzo leaned down to run his fingers through McCree’s messy hair.

“You’re getting all dirty,” Hanzo said with a breathless laugh. “Ana won’t let you at the table with twigs in your hair.”

They both jumped when their coms rang again in a different kind of alarm. McCree watched Hanzo’s brow crease in annoyance, his lips pulling down into a snarl as he fished the device out. He savored every expression and the swell of warmth that rose in his chest. The last time he felt it, after all, it had been cut out.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” McCree asked, running his hands along Hanzo’s thighs soothingly. Though he hated seeing his darling so agitated, he savored it as well. Hanzo’s expression softened when McCree traced the angry curl of his lip. It turned wicked a moment later when he opened his mouth just enough for the thumb to pop in. McCree whined, his mouth falling open in surprise as a tingle of heat stirred in his groin.

Hanzo smirked at the broken whine that clawed its way from McCree’s throat. He pulled McCree’s limp hand from his mouth, finishing the gesture with a playful nip to the tip of McCree’s thumb that made him whine again.

“This seems familiar,” Hanzo said with eyes that seemed to pin McCree to the ground as effectively as iron bands. He leaned forward, taking McCree’s hand with him and finding the other so that he was pinned on the ground with his arms above his head. The tips of his fingers brushed against the stem of the marigold plant and they both froze, pausing to check that the plant was not damaged.

“Familiar?” McCree teased when they both saw that Hanzo’s heart remained unharmed.

Hanzo laughed and leaned down, stopping just a bare centimeter from McCree’s lips. He smirked. “It reminds me of a little mutt from that godforsaken Gorge.”

Throwing his head back, McCree laughed. “I’ll show you mutt,” he said, arching up to kiss Hanzo who purred, pleased, when their lips met.

From one of the windows in the dining room, Ana watched the two of them as they kissed lazily. Her rifle was propped against the wall while behind her, Reinhardt packed small coolers (each bearing the Overwatch logo and labelled with their names) with lunches.

The door to the kitchen was kicked open. “Where is he?” Soldier 76 snapped, his leather gloves creaking as he clenched his pulse rifle.

“Who?” Ana asked, sipping from the mug of tea in her hands. She lifted her eyes so she wasn’t looking right at the boys while they kissed and instead watched the clouds lazily drift across the horizon. Let them have their private moment.

Soldier 76 growled behind his visor. “Shimada.”

“He and McCree are in the garden,” she said without turning back around. “If you’re talking about the older one, of course.”

“Ah,” Reinhardt said awkwardly and she turned to look at him. “He left already.”

Ana sighed and put her mug down. “Meet me by the garden doors,” she said to him as she shoved open the window and vaulted out.

She landed and rolled just as Soldier 76 was opening the door and shot him in the chest with a sleep dart. Pushing herself to her feet, she absently brushed off bits of dirt and grass that clung to her. Then she looked at the boys.

So close to his heart, Hanzo’s face was tinted with a blush that was surprisingly shy despite his background. McCree had a crooked grin that tugged on something in Ana’s chest.

Ana was distracted when Reinhardt lumbered through the door and picked up Soldier 76’s prone body. “I bought you about ten minutes more,” she said. “Hanzo, meet directly at the dropship - I’ve already packed your lunch.”

A wistful look crossed Hanzo’s face. It was remarkable - a few months ago, his expressions were nearly impossible to read but now…

_Well_ , she mused to herself as she followed Reinhardt back into the base.  _If you were Empty and couldn’t feel, it would make sense that you forget how to school your expressions._

“That was kind of you,” Reinhardt said in a surprisingly soft voice.

“A little bit of kindness goes a long way,” she replied. “Load him up in the Orca - I will finish packing the lunches.”

Reinhardt smiled widely. “They’re nearly done,” he assured her.

Smiling back, Ana leaned up on the tips of her toes and pressed a sweet kiss to Reinhardt’s bristly cheek. “See you in a few minutes.” 

* * *

 

 

Exactly eight minutes later, Hanzo climbed the ramp to the Orca wearing the blank look that he always wore these days. It was hard to differentiate this Hanzo with the one that smiled warmly and kissed McCree so gently.

“Thank you,” he said politely  in his flat voice.

Ana nodded as Soldier 76 began to stir. “No,” she murmured quietly to him so that her words were disguised by the roar of the engines. She handed him his lunch bag. “Thank  _you_.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of his heart,” Ana told him. “As well as he takes care of yours.”

It was hard to tell if Hanzo understood what she was trying to tell him, but she thought that the solemnity in his nod was slightly different than his usual Empty stare. “I cannot do much. I wish I could do more.”

Ana nodded. “But that’s enough for you.” It wasn’t really a question. “To be happy,” she clarified.

Hanzo didn’t quite smile but he tucked his head and tapped his fingers against the canvas outer layer of the lunch box she had handed him. “Just enough,” he agreed. “If I could, would be…happy.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With very close proximity to the marigold plant, McCree and Hanzo can occasionally feel things - despite it being removed from his chest, it is _still_ Hanzo’s heart, after all. And before it had been Cut, it had been McCree's.
> 
>  So far they haven’t been able to recreate the exact formula for being able to feel again other than it must happen near the marigold. When the stars align (or whatever) they tend to camp out near it and just…bask in feeling it and actually enjoying each other’s company.
> 
> Thank you to those that enjoy this series. It really means a lot to me to see all of your comments and kudos and feedback.
> 
> ~DC


	3. Green with Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there’s a God above  
>  **But all I’ve ever learned from love  
>  Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you**  
> And it’s not a cry that you hear at night  
>  **It’s not somebody who’s seen the light  
>  It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah**
> 
> I did my best, it wasn’t much  
> I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch  
> I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you  
>  **And even though it all went wrong  
>  I’ll stand before the Lord of Song  
> With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah**  
> ~Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have ~12 pages of jealous younger brother inspired by a lovely chat with [gastriticmouse](http://gastriticmouse.tumblr.com/)/[eonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eonia/profile). I…I don’t know if there’s a tissue warning in this so I honestly have no idea what to tell you. 
> 
> Edited while listening to “Hallelujah” in various different covers on repeat…or while keeping it in mind because I’m not allowed to have fun at work. 
> 
> In which Genji’s got no chill, Zenyatta is trying to tell him something, and Hanzo just wants his brother to be happy. 
> 
> In which there are ways definitions of coping and different ideas of what is “okay”. The team is trying and Genji is just trying to get his brother back even though he had never lost him to begin with.

“What ails you, my student?” Zenyatta asked, his orbs spinning neutrally around him.

For a long moment Genji didn’t respond though his fingers tightened into fists. “Many things,” he said tightly.

“Do you wish to speak of them?”

Genij hissed out a tense breath. “Not really,” he said. “But…only because I don’t wish to cause you distress.”

“Your distress is upsetting to me,” Zenyatta said gently. “If it is easier for you to let it out, then I beg you to tell me.”

For another long moment, Genji was quiet. “It is…my brother.”

“Ah,” Zenyatta said understandingly. It had been over a month since Hanzo had the surgery to remove his heart. The brothers still hadn’t reconciled over it.

Genji looked away. “He spends so much time with McCree…in the garden…I feel like I’m losing my brother all over again.”

“Perhaps you haven’t found a way to reconnect,” Zenyatta suggested gently. “Perhaps there are things that you may still do together that will bridge this gap with you.”

“What good would it do?” Genji asked bitterly. “He cannot feel.”

Zenyatta hummed. “But he can want - and he only wants you to be happy.”

“ _And I want him to be happy too,_ ” Genji snapped back. A moment later he turned away. “I’m sorry for yelling, master.”

Thoughtfully, Zenyatta lobbed one of his orbs toward Genji and watched it bob and swirl around his dear student. “He cannot feel happiness, but he remembers what it’s like,” he said after a long moment of thought. “He sometimes comes up here and meditates with me - perhaps you could join us sometime?”

“Why would he meditate?” Genji asked bitterly, letting the orb nestle in his palm. “He has no emotions to gain control over.”

“Meditation is about inner peace, not control of emotions,” Zenyatta pointed out. “It is a connection between a calm mind, a calm body, and a calm spirit. There are still areas that an Empty One can work on for meditation. I suspect that Hanzo enjoys the quiet - in his own way, of course.”

Genji looked down at the orb in his hands and the gentle golden glow that it gave off. “I don’t know how to act around him anymore.”

“Just because he doesn’t have a heart doesn’t make him any less your brother,” Zenyatta pointed out. “Take it slowly. He is…upset that you are distressed.”

* * *

Genji tried, he really did. He found Hanzo in the rec room, sharing a couch with McCree and Hana. To his surprise, a decent portion of the team was also there, some reading (Angela) or working on needlework (Reinhardt).

Ignoring the rest of the team, Genji approached the back of the couch and Hanzo turned his head toward him. “Do you want to meditate, brother?”

Hanzo cocked his head to the side. “Would you like to?” he asked. “We were just watching a movie.”

Next to his brother, McCree smiled. “Why don’cha join us, Gen?” he asked with a tense laugh.

“No thank you,” Genji gritted out. “I will meditate alone.”

Hanzo gently brushed off McCree’s arm and stood. “I will join you, then,” he said in his flat voice. “Thank you for inviting me to movie night.”

“Aww,” Hana said with a pout. “We wanted to see if we could get him to cry.”

Surprised, Genji whirled around. “ _What?_ ”

Hana shrugged. “Chill out, Robocop.”

“Nothin’ malicious,” McCree said, tipping his head back so that his hat fell off his head. “Aw, heck.”

Hanzo bent and placed it back on his head, pulling the brim down over his face while Hana laughed. “They’re just challenging the current reigning champion of the Sad Movie Challenge,” here Ana paused as McCree lifted his hat in acknowledgement. “To see if Hanzo may be able to usurp his throne.”

For a long moment Genji stared at them as if they had all grew two heads. “That is the most fucked-up thing I had ever heard,” Genji snapped.

“Has it occurred to you to ask Hanzo?” Hana asked tartly, twisting to scowl at him. “Did it occur to you that we  _asked him first?_  Or that maybe we wanted to spend time with him whether he’d cry or not?”

Genji turned to Hanzo who shrugged. “They invited me to movie night after dinner,” he said. “I accepted and voted for the movie. It would be…nice to watch the movie without crying.” Hanzo tilted his head to the side. “Would you still like to meditate or would you join us?”

The rest of the room was very ostensibly not watching them and Genji gritted his teeth.  _“What do you want to do?_ ” he asked Hanzo in Japanese.

Hanzo shrugged.  _“You had wanted to meditate. We can still do that.”_

_“No,”_  Genji said roughly. “ _You had other plans. I can meditate alone_.”

The man that used to be his brother tilted his head to the side again. He appeared confused  _but that probably wasn’t an emotion he could feel_ , Genji thought bitterly to himself. “ _You don’t need to do it alone, brother,_ ” he said.

Once upon a time, those had been the words that Genji had always wanted to hear from Hanzo but now…now his voice and eyes were dead and empty like some kind of movie caricature. Genji shook his head and turned to leave.  _“It is fine,_ ” he said roughly.  _“Enjoy your movie - if you can.”_

He winced to himself at the pettiness in his voice and he hurried to leave. As he was ducking through the doorway he heard McCree ask in Japanese, “ _What was_  that _about, darlin’?_ ” Gritting his teeth hard enough to hurt, he hurried down the hallway.

* * *

Later that night Genji managed to catch Hanzo as he and McCree walked down the hallway in the dorms. Seeing him, McCree leaned closer to whisper something to Hanzo who nodded. McCree tipped his hat to Genji, tapped the back of Hanzo’s hand with the fingers of his prosthetic hand, and walked away whistling a jaunty tune.

“ _What was that about?_ ” Genji asked, unable to keep the hint of acid from his voice.

Hanzo shrugged. “ _Did you need something?_ ”

“ _I wanted to know if you wanted to meditate tomorrow morning._ ” Genji winced; that sounded needy and pathetic even to his own ears.

If Hanzo thought the same, he graciously gave no sign of it though Genji was fairly certain that it was because Hanzo couldn’t feel disgust or embarrassment anymore.

“ _Are you unwell?_ ” Hanzo asked instead, to Genji’s surprise. “ _You ask about meditation often. Are you unwell?_ ”

Genji grit his teeth. “ _Is it so much to ask to spend time with my brother?_ ”

“ _It is not too much to ask,_ ” Hanzo replied. “ _I was…concerned that you were asking so much about meditation_.”

He ignored the sick feeling in his gut at the realization that Hanzo’s hesitation was because he was unable to articulate exactly what he felt - because he felt nothing at all. “ _Do you want to meditate or not?_ ”

Hanzo considered him for a moment and his blank look sent ripples of unease prickling down Genji’s back which he hastily tamped down. “ _What time?_ ”

“ _Before breakfast_ ,” Genji said, relieved.

To his surprise, Hanzo shook his head. “ _McCree and I usually go out to the garden before breakfast_.”

Genji gritted his teeth. “ _Can you not wake up earlier?_ ” Realizing just how petulant he sounded, Genji looked away. “ _I’m…sorry._ ”

“ _There is no point in being polite to someone who can no longer become insulted by your rudeness_ ,” Hanzo said and Genji turned away completely. “ _I have upset you, haven’t I?_ ”

He clenched his fists. “ _How can you be…okay with this? How can you be so complacent with this kind of life?_ ”

“ _Because I cannot feel otherwise_ ,” Hanzo replied simply. “ _Do you want me to wake up earlier to join you for meditation?_ ”

Genji hissed not unlike an angry cat and stalked away. “ _Don’t bother_.”

* * *

“What ails you, my pupil?” Zenyatta asked and a moment later, he felt the telltale warmth of one of his orbs floating above his shoulder.

“ _I spoke to Hanzo yesterday,_ ” he admitted in Nepali. It was still a relatively new language for him so he relished the attention it required because it meant that there was less for him to be upset about Hanzo.

Zenyatta hummed and his orbs bobbed and spun as he slipped into lotus position. “ _What did you speak about?_ ” he asked in the same language.

Genji took a moment to gather his thoughts and words. “ _He watches movies with the team because he thought he could enjoy the movie without crying_.”

“ _I heard_ ,” Zenyatta said neutrally. “ _He and Jesse McCree are now tied as the Kings of the Sad Movie Challenge._ ”

Whirling, Genji turned to stare incredulously at Zenyatta. “What?”

“ _Neither of them seem too upset to share the title_ ,” Zenyatta added and Genji had the feeling that his master was trying to tell him something.

Genji snorted. “ _I tried to ask him to join me for meditation this morning but he said that he already had plans_.” He wasn’t sure how to say  _garden_  so he didn’t elaborate on what Hanzo had decided was more important than Genji.

He had the feeling that Zenyatta was eyeing him and if he could, he would be wearing a little sly smile. “He and McCree go out to the gardens every morning before breakfast,” Zenyatta said in English and Genji sighed.

“I don’t get it,” Genji complained.

“Are you not happy that your brother has managed to find his own happiness?” Zenyatta asked.

Genji hissed a harsh breath out. “He cannot feel happiness,” he reminded his master harshly. Then he stopped, thinking about Hanzo and McCree’s kiss in the garden the other week. “And I think he’s just leading McCree on.”

“If Jesse McCree decides to enter a relationship with Hanzo, then is that not his own decision?” Zenyatta asked and Genji once more had the sense that his master was trying to tell him something.

But it sounded too much like scolding in that wise voice so he said nothing more and let his master’s warmth and peace flow over him.

He turned and watched Hanzo straddle McCree’s lap in the garden. The two men spoke quietly to each other beneath the spiny emerald leaves of some silly plant they had in the garden. It was McCree’s baby, some God-awful thing that had probably been found in some kind of trash heap but the cowboy loved broken things - just look at how he treated Hanzo!

He watched the two men talk. Their lunchtime alarms rang - a habit that Hanzo had picked up when they learned that he couldn’t feel  _hunger_  and one that McCree had followed himself, ostensibly to make sure that Hanzo wouldn’t feel awkward about it.

_As if Hanzo could feel._

Genji scoffed to himself and wondered how differently things would have played out if Hanzo had been Empty before…before  _everything._

There was a commotion downstairs and Genji peeked his head over the edge in time to watch Ana shoot Soldier 76 with a sleep dart. Shaking his head, he turned back to Zenyatta and tried to focus on meditating.

“I’m streaming tonight,” Hana announced at dinner a few nights later. “You’re all welcome to join – it’s a special segment with Hanzo.”

Incredulously, Genji turned to stare at the man that had once been his brother.

“Horror games,” Hana continued as if she hadn’t noticed Genji’s behavior. “Join us if you dare.”

Angela frowned. “Don’t forget to sleep,” she told Hanzo sternly. “Just because you can’t feel tired doesn’t mean that your body doesn’t need rest.”

“I will be fine, Dr. Ziegler,” he assured her in his weirdly empty voice. “I added a few alarms tomorrow to make sure I rest.”

“What kind of horror movie?” Reinhardt asked excitedly. “Will it be fun?”

Hana’s explanation faded into the background as Genji watched Hanzo mechanically eat. “ _Are you okay with this?_ ” he asked in their native tongue.

“ _I would not have agreed if I wasn’t,_ ” Hanzo pointed out in the same language.  _“I am…interested to learn what a horror game would be like as I am now._ ”

McCree was looking at them curiously so Genji didn’t say anything else; he returned to his plate in sullen silence, not noticing the empty looks that McCree and Hanzo traded at his behavior.

Genji did end up attending Hana’s stream, which had been moved to one of the minor common areas because so many people were interested in playing. After a brief introduction to Hanzo and his situation – and Hana had apparently requested that Hanzo wear a v-neck shirt that not only showed off his muscles but also revealed some of the ropy scars from his surgery.

He watched, sick to his stomach, as they had a brief Q&A session before they started the game (in reality Lúcio and Reinhardt were trying to figure out how to hook up her consoles to the TV and how to adjust the lights and cameras she used for her streams). Genji watched with gritted teeth as strangers asked increasingly personal questions of the Empty man his brother had become.

_How far did “want” go?_

_Could he feel physical pleasure?_

_Can he masturbate? Did it do anything?_

If Hana allowed the question, Hanzo would answer them as obviously discomfort was not an emotion that he could feel.

_Does he regret his decision?_

_Does the person he fell in love with know what he did?_

There was an uproar over the chats when Hanzo said that the subject of his affections knew and accepted his choice. They asked more questions but Genji’s ears were ringing.

He had tried to ask Hanzo this question before but he hadn’t answered. Why would Hanzo share this with complete strangers and not his brother? To say that it hurt was an understatement and he tried not to let his bitterness show as the stream continued.

“Here!” Reinhardt boomed, shoving an unlabeled bottle of beer in Genji’s hands. “You look like you need it.”

He didn’t, he really didn’t, but he took it anyway and drank deeply.

By the time Hanzo was an hour into the game, Genji was well and truly plastered, having drunk deeply of one of Reinhardt’s strong home brews and some of Torbjörn’s alcohol that only he and Brigitte could pronounce. “I’m going out for a walk,” Genji said as he waved off all offers of help. “Just to clear my head.”

Hanzo watched him, the game paused, with his head cocked to the side. “Are you well?” he asked, his face pulled into a mimicry of the expression McCree wore when he was worried.

He waved a hand and was moderately alarmed at how loose it felt, as if his joints would release and the limb would go flying. “ _I’m fine_ ,” he said and wasn’t quite sure in what language he spoke. “ _Just going for a walk_.”

The empty shell that used to be his brother regarded him with blank brown eyes for a moment longer. Hanzo nodded. “ _Be well then, brother_.”

_How casually he said the words now,_ Genji thought bitterly to himself as he stumbled out the door.

“Should we go after him?” he heard someone ask as he walked away. It may have been Hana. He didn’t hear if there was an answer – it was a moot point anyway because he stumbled out the window and fell down into the garden. Fortunately the window was only on the first floor so it wasn’t too far of a drop, somewhere around a meter.

He still landed on his back and stayed there for a moment, winded from the surprise, staring up at the thick clouds above. When he heard footsteps in the stairwell, he scrambled to his feet and skittered away, pressing a hand to his maskless face to keep from giggling like a child. To his drunk mind it was like a great game of hide and seek and he ducked and wove around the dead and dying plants with over exaggerated motions. In another life his brother would have scoffed at him and told him…

His brother.

Genji stopped suddenly, a wave of sobriety hitting him like a punch in the gut. Hanzo.

Once upon a time, Hanzo would have scolded him for being so frivolous; this new Hanzo didn’t even bat an eye – as if he didn’t care.

_Did he even care? How could he when he cut out his heart?_

Genji sighed, recognizing the Discord his master so often spoke about; the Disharmony that wore down their attackers in the field as surely as the waves did to stone.  _Hanzo’s choice was his own,_  he reminded himself.  _There is more to this that I don’t know._

_And why not?_ The Disharmony whispered back.  _Why did he not share this with his brother?_

Gritting his teeth against the voice, Genji stalked down the garden path. In the glory days of Overwatch, the strip of land had once been a thriving garden. This particular area had been tended by the landscapers and arborists with a few other patches scattered over the property serving as personal plots of land to improve morale. Now after years of neglect there was a riot of greenery where some plants thrived and others perished. Someone had begun cutting back the plants, trying to tame nature once more and Genji assumed it was probably the Bastion unit and its avian companion. They had been found in the forest, he had been told, so most likely it was most at home in this overgrown area.

So reminded, Genji was more careful as he walked in case he startled it. He was  _probably_  just sober enough to dodge if it was startled and attacked, but it wasn’t something he really wanted to test.

_Your blade against Hanzo’s was not something you had wanted to test, either,_ the Disharmony whispered.  _But it still happened_.

Sucking in a deep breath, Genji braced his shoulders against the cold whisper of the voice and pressed on.  _Happened. It’s in the past and I’ve forgiven him._

_Forgiven him of what? Of killing you, yes,_  the Discord replied.  _But what about this new abandonment? What is he running from this time that made him cut out his heart?_

Genji stopped.  _That wasn’t fair_ , he scolded himself in a voice that sounded very much like Zenyatta.  _Hanahaki is deadly-_

_So deadly that he had to cut out his heart?_  The Discord wanted to know.  _So deadly that he chose to have it removed rather than confess?_

That confession was in some ways as debilitating as the coward’s cut conveniently slipped his drunken mind.

_They call it a coward’s cut for a reason,_  the Disharmony pointed out.

Genji shook his head and continued his walk, picking up the pace a little. It was time to find his master and his bed; he’d had enough of that day.

The garden path spat him out into the courtyard near the kitchen and he paused. When the weather was warm it was converted into an outdoor patio, or at least it had been in the heyday of Overwatch. The grass hadn’t yet reclaimed the tiled areas but a few enterprising plants were peeking through the grout and cobblestones. He could still see the areas that had once held the supports for awnings and synthetic torches in the nighttime when they had evening gatherings.

The rest of the courtyard had fallen into as much chaos as the rest of the garden had, though in a much tamer way. Weeds ran riot over what had once been well-treated lawn and most of the grass had died, so far out of its natural climate and without people to properly care for it. The bushes that had once hidden a waist-high wall (waist-high so that the spoiled Overwatch operatives could stare out over the ocean while they ate) were skeletons of their former selves, reaching with greedy fingers toward the sky.

Genji kicked at a puff of brownish grass and winced when it crumbled. Everything in the garden was dead or dying except for a little puff of dark green hidden among the skeletons of the past.

How many times had he seen Hanzo and McCree taking care of the thing?

He walked up to it and realized that it was the first time he had actually seen the thing up close. It was easy to remember when McCree first decided to plant the wretched thing – it was hideous and had caused Bastion distress with how close to death it seemed. But McCree had shooed Bastion away – firmly but gently – and insisted that it remain where it was, within full view of the kitchen.

Kneeling beside it, he brushed the leaves with his fingers. The sensors in his armor plates couldn’t feel too well and he didn’t feel like taking off the gauntlet on his only flesh hand so he settled with watching the leaves and flowers bob as he handled them.

He had never been one for plants so he couldn’t begin to guess what kind it was. Something with a hundred wrinkled petals like crumpled pieces of paper in hues of gold and bronze and orange. The buds looked inordinately smug and gritting his teeth, he pinched one off meanly.

“Yuck,” he muttered out loud at the sharp, herbal smell; he flicked his hand and watched the bud plop down in the dirt at the base of the flower. Then he picked it up again and ripped it in half just to let the petals – tipped in gold and orange with pale white hearts where they hadn’t quite grown into their pigment yet – spill out over his hand.

A moment later they were whisked away by the brisk breeze and scattered themselves along the dead grass.

“I don’t see how he can like you,” Genji said to it, curling his lip when he could still smell the phantom traces of the plant. “You look more like a weed. Yet every day he comes here and cares for you…”

He fell silent and this time the Discord washed over him like waves on a shore.  _He cares for a plant but not his own brother._

_Can he care or does he just not? Just for you?_

“Hanzo cares,” Genji said, turning his head away from the plant, somewhere in his drunken mind thinking that he didn’t want the plant to think that he was talking to it. “Or he wouldn’t have come here.”

_That was then,_  the Disharmony insisted. _Before he saw the cowboy again. Do you really think that he would have stayed otherwise? Would he have opened up to the team the way he has?_

Genji reached for the plant and pinched off one of the flowers this time, wrinkling his nose again at its off-putting smell. “I wouldn’t think he’d like you,” he said directly to the flower. “You’re not even pretty and you smell terrible. I’d think with how traditional he is and how stuck-up he still manages to be, that he would want something else. Like  _sakura,_  maybe.”

He laughed suddenly, realizing what a fool he was being – sitting there, speaking to a plant like it could understand him. But as he was about to stand, he caught sight of its roots and paused.

Perhaps at some point it had needed support and the cowboy had shoved a dowel rod into the ground at its base and loosely secured it crudely with a zip tie. Hanging from a string tied around the zip tie were two pendants he recognized from years ago when Hanzo had been the young heir and McCree had just been a nobody in the desert.

The pendants were worn with age but they had been tied together and to the zip-tie with a flat, translucent cord – what genji recognized was a piece of Hanzo’s bowstring.

Genji hung his head. How hard had he tried to reconcile with Hanzo? How hard had the journey been to accept who he had become – and by whose hands – enough that he could feel even the smallest measure of comfort around the one who had tried to murder him? How long have he carried around one of his master’s orbs in order to feel even the smallest measure of peace around the base?

How many times had he fought with Hanzo about himself, about his team, about his choice to join the new Overwatch? How many hurtful words had been slung, how many times had blades been drawn? How many times had his master had to bring him back from the edge of Discord and back into the embrace of the Iris?

How easily had Hanzo begun to smile again –  _around McCree?_  How easily had Hanzo begun to join team bonding events –  _because McCree asked him to?_ How many times had he attended meditation with Genji and Zenyatta though clearly agitated, clearly uncomfortable, and admitted that it was  _because McCree had pestered him to?_

He threw the ugly flower to the dirt and ground it with his fist until all that was left were scattered petals and green pulp. A smear of gold and orange was left on his knuckle and his nose burned with the bitter, medicinal smell.

Vindictively he yanked another flower off and did the same thing, tearing its leaves off and grinding the bulb of the flower into the dirt and grass. It was strangely therapeutic and he pushed himself to his feet to keep from destroying the rest of it. He wobbled a little, drunk and disoriented.

“I don’t know why I’m letting you get to me,” he muttered to the flower and kicked at it with his foot. He missed so he swung again and fell over. “I’m too drunk for this,” he told the heavy clouds above as he rolled over on his back and stared up at the sky.

Shoving himself to his feet he let himself back in to the kitchen and stumbled back to the room he shared with Zenyatta. “Are you well?” Zenyatta asked, powering on just enough to ask.

“Drunk,” he grumbled. “Took a tumble in the garden. Gonna clean up.”

Zenyatta gave a “sleepy” trill that always made Genji smile. The gentle glow of his optics faded as he powered down again.

It was short work for him to remove his armor plating and wipe down bits of dirt and greenery from his body. Just to be safe he took a quick shower and dried off, dumping his armor in the special buckets of cleaner that he and Zenyatta had for just that purpose. He rubbed his hands over it quickly but from the smears of brown and green decided that it was best to let it soak – inside where he was comfortable, the icy voice was fading and now he was sleepy.

Stumbling to his bed, he flopped over, smiling when he felt the gentle nudge of one of Zenyatta’s orbs. Tucking it to his chest, he fell asleep.

* * *

The storm promised by the heavy clouds he had seen the night before broke sometime early in the morning and Genji woke to a dull, echoing roar as rain thundered down on the base.

Breakfast was a strangely somber affair, or seemed to be when Genji walked in. Even the Bastion unit was inside though it stayed in a corner where it wouldn’t drip rainwater all over the tile. It chirped a two-note greeting when it noticed him.

“Good morning,” Genji said as he immediately walked over to the sink and gulped down a glass of water. “Some weather today, huh?”

Angela was looking out the window. “Do you think they’re alright?” she asked. She squinted as if she could see past the silvery curtain of rain and mist.

“Probably not,” Hana muttered into her breakfast. There were dark circles under her eyes, probably from staying up late to stream. “But it’s not like they’d care if we dragged them back in.” Despite her bitter words, she pushed her chair away from the table and picked up one of the damp umbrellas by the door. She bounced on the balls of her feet at the door and the Bastion unit moved to open it for her. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said to it.

The roar of the rain was startling and popping open the umbrella, Hana stepped out; the Bastion unit closed the door again and the sound was abruptly cut off. “Let’s get some towels ready,” Angela suggested but Ana was already coming back from the hall closet with an armful of starchy standard-issue towels.

At the door, the Bastion unit trilled and opened the door in time to let Hana shove a soaking wet McCree into the entry; it closed and she ducked back out and was obscured by the rain.

McCree’s clothes poured water and soon a puddle had formed beneath him. “You look like a drowned rat,” Genji said with a laugh.

The cowboy made a face as he tossed his hat on the ground where it landed with a wet smack. “Feel like one,” he said with an odd look on his face. He accepted the towel from Ana before he let her remove his drenched serape and folded it into a crude cloak around his neck and shoulders.

“You’re going to catch cold,” Angela scolded, throwing another towel over his head while Ana ran back into the hallway for more towels. “Get yourself dry, cowboy.”

“Don’t much see the point,” McCree said. “Seein’ as I’m probably gonna have t’ be the one t’ drag Han in.” he jerked his thumb out toward the back garden. “Doubt Hana’s gonna be able t’ convince him to get back.”

Ana came back with another stack of towels which she shoved in Genji’s hands. “You tell him that I will sleep him and have him dragged inside if I must.”

“Ain’t gonna care much,” McCree said as he moved back toward the door. “Not when his plant’s dead.”

Genji looked back and forth between Ana and Angela. “What’s this?”

Shaking his head, McCree walked back out into the downpour and disappeared; the Bastion unit gave a worried warble as it closed the door again.

“Hanzo’s plant is dead,” Ana said grimly. “Something must have gotten to it last night and the rain isn’t helping. He’s outside trying to save it.”

“Why?” Genji asked with a frown. “It’s just a plant.” He thought back to his vindictive pleasure in ripping apart the bulbs and flower the night before. In some ways it felt justified now – though Empty, Hanzo still seemed to care more for the ugly plant than his own brother. Or his own health.

Ana and Angela exchanged glances and through the window they could see shadows moving; the Bastion unit trilled and opened the door for Hana and Hanzo to come through. Hanzo grabbed a towel from Ana and briskly wrapped it around Hana who was shivering. Gently he pushed her toward Angela and turned back to the door.

“Let me through,” he said roughly to the Bastion unit. It trilled what sounded like a denial. “ _Let me through_ ,” he said again through gritted teeth.

The Bastion unit opened the door again but this time McCree blocked the doorway with something wrapped in the towel that had been around his neck. “Don’t worry,” McCree said in a strangely hollow voice. “I got it.”

Now that Genji was watching, he noticed that neither McCree nor Hanzo were shivering despite being drenched but Hana’s teeth were chattering audibly while Angela hurried to get her dry. Ana wrapped her up in another dry towel and briskly rubbed her arms with it despite her complaints her arms would be red from the scratchy towels.

“D’ ya think it can be saved, big guy?” McCree asked, tilting his head back to look up at the Bastion model. “We’re kinda flyin’ blind here.”

Genji squinted, realizing that there was something on McCree’s throat – a scar, faded with age but still visible. There was a matching one on Hanzo’s throat – Genji would know because he had stared at it so many times.

“On no,” a voice said behind him and Zenyatta hurried past. He tossed orbs around – one to Hana and one to Genji who hadn’t realized quite how upset he was becoming until an orb nudged his shoulder. Zenyatta tossed one each at Hanzo and McCree though when they approached their target they wavered, wobbled, and returned to Zenyatta.

McCree wasn’t smiling as he turned around, revealing the bundle in his arms. What had been whole and healthy the night before was now a crumpled, sodden mess. The few leaves and branches left hung limp either by water or from being crushed and there were no whole flowers left, only bits and pieces that - if Genji would bet if he thought to check - had been crushed between plates of armor.

Pieces that had so cruelly been ripped off by a jealous brother, pieces that had been kicked and smashed and torn apart vengefully. Genji’s ears rang as he stared, first at the plant, then the matching scars on Hanzo and McCree’s necks.

“Oh no,” Hana cried, running to their arms to look at the plant. Even Ana and Angela looked distraught in ways that neither Hanzo nor McCree were able to feel. “Oh, Hanzo - your heart!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those that enjoy this series. It really means a lot to me to see all of your comments and kudos and feedback. 
> 
> ~DC


End file.
